


It Broke the Ice

by sp8sexual



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Bitchy Best Friends Foggy Nelson & Marci Stahl, F/F, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, in which matt and foggy meet in a bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp8sexual/pseuds/sp8sexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Foggy and Matt meet in a bar, Foggy's brain-to-mouth filter is nonexistent, and Matt is not only hot like burning, but adorable, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marci was complaining about the dingy little bar Foggy had dragged them into, but Foggy was ignoring her. She came five times last night; that meant Foggy got to choose their bar, in his book. Besides, he had argued, dropping Marci's drink in front of her, alcohol is alcohol. She had made a face, a derisive comment, and Foggy had decided to ignore her.

That is, until Marci's prada heels clicked against the floor, and Foggy got a whiff of her strong, expensive perfume. He glanced at her, and was met with an eye-full of her cleavage. Her professional button-up was opened one button more than office appropriate, and her push-up bra made the fabric stretch across her breasts; the way she was leaning in towards Foggy, careful not to touch the table, did nothing to help. Foggy's eyes flickered up to her face, and he saw her smirk. He rolled his eyes.

"You should get out more," Marci said casually, taking a sip of her drink, "get _laid_ more."

"You know how often I get laid," Foggy deadpanned, "and it's not like you have any complaints."

"True," Marci flicked her hair over her shoulder, "but you always get that look when you've gone too long without sex with _feelings_ , or whatever. Like a kicked puppy, or something."

Foggy snorted. "Don't act like you don't have emotions, Marci," Foggy took a sip of his beer, "you just like to hide it below expensive bags and shoes. Deep down, _deep, deep_ down, beneath that black hole and frozen wasteland," he made a vague, hand-waving gesture around her torso, "you've got a heart."

Marci huffed, rolling her eyes. " _Please_ , Foggy-bear."

"And anyway," Foggy continued, going for flippant but falling flat. He hesitated with his bottle, before placing it on the table. "It's not like I've got time to be looking, and I haven't exactly got anyone chasing after me."

"You're so full of shit!" Marci pointed a finger at Foggy around her glass, "We are in a _bar_ , Franklin Nelson, it is _not_ that hard to talk to someone!"

"Yeah, a _bar_ ," Foggy exclaimed, but keeping his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "If I talked to someone here, they'd think I'm looking to get _laid_ , not a _date_!"

Marci rolled her eyes, "you chat them up, give them your number, then walk away. It's not that hard."

Foggy muttered something under his breath that sounded like "booty call", but Marci had already turned her attention to the bar, scanning the room for potential targets. Her eyes landed on a man at the end of the bar, and she let out a little "oh" of not only surprise, but mischief.

She turned back to Foggy.

Foggy hated it when Marci got that look in her eye. He knew it meant nothing good for him. Or, well, sometimes it meant orgasms, but usually orgasms and pain, and he just generally was not a fan of this look.

"How drunk are you?" She asked sharply. Foggy glanced at his beer, almost empty, knowing by the tone of Marci's voice that he better give an answer--the right answer--or reap the consequences.

"Not nearly enough for whatever you're planning," Foggy said honestly, knocking back the rest of his beer and accepting his fate.

"Drink this," Marci said, shoving her drink in Foggy's hand. Foggy sighed, but did as he was told, knocking the glass back in a motion similar to what he had just done with his beer. The alcohol burned on the way down, choking Foggy, who coughed and spluttered, his eyes watering.

" _Jesus Christ, Marci,_ " he wheezed out. "What was _in_ that? Jet fuel?"

Marci hummed, amused. "Woman up, Fog, it's not that bad," she scolded. She watched as Foggy tried to get a hold of himself, waiting but not very patiently. She pulled out a mirror, examining her makeup instead.

"All better?" She asked, keeping her voice uninterested and unimpressed. Foggy glared at her, but didn't say anything. "Now," she snapped her mirror shut, "the cute guy at the end of the bar? Nice face and better ass? You're going to go talk to him."

"Marci, _no_ ," Foggy said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "This is not a good idea."

"It's a fantastic idea," Marci insisted, shooing Foggy off of his chair. She fixed him with a stern look. "You are not to return until you have his number, or he has yours, understood?"

"Marci--"

" _Understood?_ "

Foggy sighed. He nodded. "Understood."

Foggy spent the whole walk to the other side of the bar telling himself what a bad idea this was, cursing Marci, and trying to psyche himself because the guy at the end of the bar really _was_ cute. Maybe they can laugh about it someday.

Foggy shook himself. The likelihood of this _not_ crashing an burning was immeasurably small.

Shit, he was nearly at the end of the bar, and the man had a body like _woah_ , and Marci was right about his ass, and the dark stubble contrasted against pale skin just got Foggy thinking about how said stubble would feel against his inner thighs, and, _fuck_ , those _lips_. This was going to end so, so badly, and Foggy was so, so screwed.

He slid up next to the man, thankful he didn't trip, and plastered on his most charming smile. "This seat taken?"

The man looked up at him, startled, and Foggy noticed his dark glasses, a cane leaned up against the wooden bar. Blind. This was so beyond 'bad idea' territory, and Foggy was going to _kill_ Marci.

"Oh, uh, no," the man said, startling Foggy out of his murderous thoughts, "please."

Foggy sat, facing the man, his brain working overtime to remember how to talk, because this man was _hot_ and Foggy hadn't had to actually flirt with anyone since he started whatever he and Marci were doing.

"So, uh, you come here often?" Foggy decides, in that moment, that he is going to move. Somewhere very, very far away. Across the country. Maybe even to India. Put his college Punjabi classes to good use.

The man blinks, and grins a bit hesitantly, "not really. I'm just waiting for a friend."

"Oh," Foggy said, and there were so many things in that 'oh'. He shifted awkwardly, unsure if he should just get up and leave. The man hummed in what could be agreement. They sat there a moment, neither speaking, and Foggy could physically feel the uneasy tension in the air. It prickled his skin and he sighed, shifting to stand. "I guess I should just--"

"My name's Matt," the man cut in, and Foggy froze. He sat back down.

"F-Foggy," he said, taking the hand Matt offered.

Matt grinned more genuinely, "Sorry, it just seemed like you were having some trouble."

"Yeah, well, have you seen yourself?" Foggy huffed, waving a hand in a way to indicate Matt's inhuman attractiveness. A beat later, his words caught up with him. "Wait-- _shit_ \--that's not--I mean--holy shit, I'm sorry."

Matt was laughing, a small amused thing, and Foggy felt his brain break a little. "D-don't apologize," Matt said through chuckles, "it's fine." Matt sobered up a bit, but his smile lingered, "I hate it when people do that, treat me like I'm made of glass."

"Well, sure," Foggy shrugged, still trying to get his wits about him. "You're just like any other, _incredibly hot_ , guy around."

Matt's mouth opened in shock, and Foggy was wondering when he was going to regain control of his mouth.

"I mean," he continued, and apparently the answer was 'not any time soon', "I can't possibly be the first person to tell you that."

"I--er, w-well, it's, it's not something," Matt stuttered, blush rising up his neck, "I don't, um."

"Fuck," Foggy muttered to himself as Matt stumbled over his words, brain-to-mouth filter nothing more than a distant memory. "Fuck, not only is he _hot like burning_ , he's really _fucking adorable_. Fuck. You are _so screwed_ , Nelson."

"O-Oh," Matt breathed, his mouth working but no more words came out. Matt was blushing brighter and a smile broke out across his face, and Foggy decided that somehow this man's cuteness was going to kill him. Cause of Death: Cute Guy at the End of the Bar's Stuttering and Smile.

"It would be Marci's fault," Foggy continued his thought process out loud, "I should put that in my will: 'charge Marci Stahl with manslaughter'."

"Um, what?" Matt said, looking taken aback, and very confused.

"Sorry," Foggy said quickly, realizing he had been speaking aloud, "oh my god. You are just very attractive, and I think it's short circuited my brain a little bit."

"W-what?" Matt repeated, lost and flustered.

"We should just start over. Can we start over? Let's start over. Have you heard the one about the polar bear?" Foggy spared a moment to wish he had been raised religious, because he could really use some divine intervention here.

"What?" Matt said a third time.

"It broke the ice," The words came out a bit strangled as Foggy accepted the fact that he was so beyond help at this point. Matt let out a startled laugh.

"D-did you really just--?" Matt managed through his laughter, disbelieving. Foggy groaned, and just dropped his head against the bar.

"Trust me," Foggy muttered, eyes closed and praying for death, "I am regretting everything, right now, up to and including my birth."

"It--it wasn't that bad," Matt tried to comfort him, though he was still laughing.

"Yes, it was."

"Yes, it was," Matt agreed, almost doubled over in laughter. Foggy turned his face, cheek pressed against the sticky surface of the bar, and watched Matt as he laughed.

"You really are, though," Matt's eyebrows furrowed, and Foggy sat up, "attractive, that is. Marci described you as the 'cute guy at the end of the bar with a nice face and better ass', and that's without seeing your smile."

Matt was blushing again. He raised an eyebrow. "Marci? The one you're going to charge with manslaughter?"

"Yup," Foggy popped the 'p' with a nod, "the very same."

Matt was grinning, and Foggy couldn't help smiling himself.

"How-how does that even work?" Matt asked, the beginnings of laughter working it's way back into his words.

"Easily," Foggy said, "simultaneously loving and wanting to kill someone is what friendship is, right?"

Matt burst into laughter again, and Foggy's smile widened. "I don't think," Matt started, "I don't think that's how that's supposed to work."

"Are you telling me that you have never done something or said something just to make your friend groan or because you knew they would hate it? Gotten a little stab of vicious joy from it?" Foggy pointed at him, "you know you have! Everyone has."

"S-sure," Matt choked out, "but that's not the same as _wanting to charge someone with manslaughter_."

"You have obviously never met Marci," Foggy sniffed.

Matt was giggling, and it was a beautiful sound, something Foggy could listen to for forever.

Foggy realized he had spoken aloud, again, when Matt suddenly stopped laughing, eyes widening, and lips parting in shock. Matt was flushed red, and Foggy felt his own blush rise, heat in his cheeks. Matt was obviously struggling for words, and Foggy's mouth took off without his permission once again.

"Oh, God," Foggy groaned, "It's just--you're so--" Foggy made a noise, that was supposed to somehow some up _Matt_. Foggy felt it woefully inadequate. "And then you start _smiling_ , and _blushing_ , and _laughing_ , and it's _awful_ because how can someone be _so hot_ and _so cute_? It's just not fair. And I really, really wish I could stop talking because this is getting embarrassing. Please say something."

"Matt?"

The moment was ruined, and they both turned towards the voice that had said Matt's name. Standing just behind Matt was a cute girl, blonde and wearing a pretty dress. Her cheeks were faintly pink.

"Karen," Matt said, his voice sounding strangled. He cleared his throat. "Hi."

"Who's your friend?" Karen asked lightly, but Foggy heard some sort of significance weighing down her words. Foggy swallowed, and stood.

"I-I really should be..." He trailed off, his eyes landing on the now-empty table that he had been sitting at with Marci.

"This is Foggy," Matt introduced breezily, ignoring Foggy's words.

"I was looking for you," Karen accused, though she didn't actually sound that put out. More exasperatedly fond, than anything else.

Matt smiled sheepishly at Karen, apologetic, "Sorry, we kinda got carried away. Wait for me? I'll be right out."

"Sure you won't get 'carried away' again?" Karen teased, and Matt grinned.

"Promise."

Karen nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to Matt's cheek. She shot Foggy one more glance before she turned and walked to the exit. Matt turned his grin to Foggy, and Foggy, as he was very used to doing, accepted his fate.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" Matt licked his lips, and, while he hadn't really stopped blushing, but the color had faded. Now, though, it was rising again. "O-on a date."

"Is that even a question?" Foggy really hated himself sometimes, "I mean-- _yes_. Yes, I would love that. Um."

"Oh, g-good," Matt nodded, absently, almost as if to himself. They sat in a stilted silence for a moment, both hovering and unsure. "My number," Matt said suddenly, reaching inside of his suit jacket and pulling out a pen. He scrambled for a napkin, and scribbled his number down. "Is it--can you read that?"

"Probably," Foggy said, "I mean, honestly? You're blushing again, and I can't stop staring, and I haven't even looked at it. You are very mesmerizing and I am going to walk away now before I say anything else to embarrass myself, but I will call you." Foggy didn't move, and he really did try his best, honestly tried to stop himself from talking and just _walk away_ , but he couldn't take his eyes off of Matt. "Oh my god, you're gorgeous."

Matt was blushing full force again, and Foggy was absolutely ready for the floor to open and swallow him whole.

"W-well, I've, um," Matt stood as well, and Foggy hadn't moved, so now they were standing incredibly close, and Foggy was convinced that his heart would beat right out of his chest. "K-Karen's waiting for me."

"R-right," Foggy said, "I should, um, should go find Marci. Make sure she hasn't scarred anyone while I've been embarrassing myself."

"B-but, you'll call?" Matt asked, hesitant, as if he wasn't sure Foggy actually would.

"Yes, absolutely, yup, yes," Foggy nodded, "I will call you. Now, I really _am_ going to walk away, because I don't think the human body was made to process this much embarrassment so, I'm just going to...go. But, I'll call you! Totally, yes."

"Okay," Matt smiled softly, nodding, "okay. See you, Foggy."

"See ya."

Foggy managed to tear himself away from Matt, walking through the bar and not stopping until he burst through the front door. He saw Marci waiting for him, fixing her lipstick.

"That was awful," Foggy groaned.

"It was cute," Marci said, and Foggy knew she was mocking him.

"You're mocking me."

"A little," she admitted. Foggy huffed, and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, leaving lipstick behind. She hailed a cab, and climbed in. "But now we both have numbers, so tonight was a good night. Bye, Foggy-bear."

"I hate you!" He called after her, and she laughed as she shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might turn this into a multi-chapter _thing_ just because I love these two idiots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy Nelson has a problem, and that problem is cute boys.
> 
> Also, someone please help Matt Murdock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for them, but not bad enough to stop.
> 
> I would also like to thank you all for your comments and kudos, you're all so lovely! Goodness, my heart grew three sizes. <3

"I hate you," Foggy announced, dropping himself into the chair across Marci's desk. Marci hummed, her attention fixed on the stack of papers in her hand.  
  
"That's nice," she said. Foggy glared.  
  
"I'm serious!" He insisted, "I really, really do." Foggy kept his defensive posture for a moment. Then he groaned, and draped himself across Marci's desk. A few pens fell off. Foggy told himself they were her punishment, even while knowing he'd be the one picking them up, in the end. "And I definitely hadn't been drunk enough," he bemoaned.  
  
Marci sighed, but didn't look up from her papers. "You met a cute boy, and got his number. I'm not seeing the problem."  
  
"The problem is that it was awful and I made an idiot of myself," Foggy knocked another pen off of her desk in spite. "He was cute and had a nice laugh, and everything is awful, because I said I'd call him."  
  
"I'm still not seeing the problem," Marci said around the pen she had placed between her teeth, reaching over Foggy to search through a pile of papers.  
  
"The _problem_ is that I said I'd call him, and I can barely speak in coherent sentences when I so much as _think_ about him!"  
  
"You're ridiculous," Marci declared, rolling her eyes. She stood from her desk, "call him, or I will call him for you." With that, she stalked out of her office, shutting her door with a sharp severity.  
  
Foggy stared at the shut door for a long moment. Somehow, even the blankness of the wood seemed to be judging him. He sighed, and pushed himself out of his chair, stopping to pick up the pens on the floor and put them on Marci's desk on his way out of the office.  


  


* * *

  


Foggy lasted one more hour before he gave in. He was sitting at his desk, staring at his cell phone. Matt's number was staring innocently back.  
  
He sat there, with Matt's number dialed, for a half hour. He kept psyching himself up to hit the 'call' button, then panicking and all but throwing the phone back on his desk. It was a repeating cycle.  
  
At one point, he was sure he heard Marci snort at him from her own desk, watching him in all his pathetic glory. But then again, it could've been the phantom-Marci in his mind. _She_ was currently telling him that this was going beyond his usual pathetic, to a whole new level. He told her to shut up.  
  
Steeling himself, he hit call before he could talk himself out of it again. His palms were sweaty and he was sure he was going to drop his phone. Foggy was sure he was going to hyperventilate, and he seriously debated hanging up. Maybe he could just adopt a puppy, and live life out as a rich, lonely lawyer.  
  
It was ringing. Oh, God, it was _ringing_.  
  
For a split second, Foggy wildly hoped that Matt had given him a fake number.  
  
Then, Matt's low, smooth voice answered, and all thought flew straight from Foggy's mind.  
  
"I know there's that whole 'three days' rule, or whatever," Foggy led in, speaking quickly, hoping he sounded at least a little put together, "but I honestly couldn't wait." There went that hope. "Are you free today? For lunch? Or coffee?"  
  
"I'm free for anything!" Matt said quickly, eagerly. "I-I mean, I'm, uh. Free, t-today? Yeah. I'm pretty much open. For whatever."  
  
Foggy grinned, "good! Great! Yeah, I know this place for a good cup of coffee. Unless you want lunch? We can do lunch. My lunch break is in an hour."  
  
"One hour? O-oh, that, um. That works, yeah. And, w-well, I had to miss breakfast. This morning," Matt's words were coming out fast, nervous. He was tripping over his words, and Foggy was biting his lip, _hard_ , fighting back a stupidly smitten smile. "S-so, lunch sounds good? We could, um. Do coffee after? O-or. Or, next time?"  
  
"Both, we could do both," foggy said, "coffee after and coffee next time. Is that too much coffee? Nah, I mean it's not like we're gonna go on another date the same day, right?" Foggy laughed nervously.  
  
"S-sure, yeah," Matt laughed, too, breathless and strained, "sounds like a date."  
  


* * *

  
Matt had suggested a place, and they had agreed to meet there. Foggy was fidgeting, beyond nervous. His suit was rumpled and his hair was a mess--he had woken up late after going to bed late, and it was all Marci's fault. A lot of things were Marci's fault. Not that Matt would care, Foggy figured, but he wanted to look nice for Matt, even if Matt couldn't see. Matt deserved it.  
  
The very same Matt who was now walking down the street towards him, looking just as amazing as he had last night. Dark suit, dark glasses, dark stubble. Foggy felt his heartbeat jump, thudding faster than Foggy thought strictly healthy.  
  
"Hey, Matt," he said, as soon as Matt was close enough. Matt was smiling, and Foggy resigned himself to his racing heartbeat.  
  
"Foggy, hey," Matt said a bit breathlessly, "hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
They were grinning stupidly at each other in front of the restaurant. Foggy _knew_ they had to look like idiots, just standing there. But, he couldn't get himself to move, not wanting to take his eyes off of Matt for even a second.  
  
The moment was broken when someone bumped into Foggy, jostling him out of his daze. "We should, um," Foggy made a vague hand motion towards the door, "go in. I-I just, waved towards the door, by the way."  
  
"R-right," Matt stuttered, flushing slightly. After a beat, where they once again just stood there awkwardly, Matt hesitantly lifted his hand, "lead me?"  
  
"Of course!" Foggy winced at how quickly he spoke, but caught Matt's hand, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. Matt's fingers were a warm weight, comforting, and Foggy smiled to himself. "So, what had you so busy you missed breakfast? It is the most important meal of the day, you know." Foggy lowered his voice, conspiratorially, as he pushed open the door and led Matt into the cosy restaurant. "Bad hang-over after a night out partying with the girls?" Foggy teased, keeping his tone playfully faux-serious. He hummed solemnly, "I've been there."  
  
Matt was chuckling, and Foggy couldn't tear his eyes away. He noticed a mark under Matt's eye.  
  
"Is that a _bruise_?" He asked, reaching out a hand and touching it gently, before realizing what he was doing and jerking his hand back. "Are you--I mean. How did that happen?"  
  
"It was--I walked into my door," Matt said quickly, a little too loudly, hand making an aborted motion upwards before he dropped it to his side again. "Yup, this morning," he nodded. "We should get a table."  
  
"Table," Foggy mumbled, "right."  
  
The restaurant was more of a small cafe than an actual restaurant. It was decorated with dark wood and low, warm light. Tables were scattered haphazardly, and it looked like they were to just seat themselves. Foggy lead them over to an empty table in the corner. Matt made a quiet, disgruntled noise when Foggy pulled out his chair, opening his mouth, probably to insist that he could do it himself, when Foggy cut him off.  
  
"It's just manners, Matty," Foggy soothed, sitting in his own seat, "next time you can pull out my chair, and we'll call it even."  
  
"Sure," Matt laughed, relaxing when he realized Foggy really _wasn't_ going to freak out about the blind thing, "sounds fair."  
  
Foggy leaned back in his chair, watching the way Matt's smile softened as his laughter trailed off.  
  
"You're really, very beautiful when you smile," Foggy heard the words leave his mouth without his permission. He shut his eyes, throwing his hand over his face. "Oh my god," he groaned, "I was doing so _good_."  
  
"S-so you weren't just saying that last night? After one too many?" Matt sounded like he was trying to keep his words light, teasing, but he was stuttering and, Foggy saw when he peaked between his fingers, Matt was blushing.  
  
"Of course not," Foggy's hand dropped to the table, disbelief coloring his tone. "You're--I mean, you look," Foggy looked Matt over, trying to find the right word, when he noticed Matt was beat up far more than he had first realized. "Holy shit, are those _stitches_?"  
  
"Stairs!" Matt exclaimed, "yeah, I, um. Fell down the stairs. A-after I ran into the door." Matt licked his lips, and Foggy's eyes were drawn to the motion, but he was only distracted momentarily. Matt continued to ramble on, stuttering worse with every word, "It was probably quite the sight, actually. I-it's not like the door or the stairs _moved_ , right? How wild would that be? And yet." Matt laughed nervously. Matt's hands fluttered uselessly in front of him for a moment, before he dropped them to the table, using one to clamp down hard on the other. "I'm blind! Clumsy, sometimes. Because I cannot see."  
  
"Uh-huh," Foggy said, biting back laughter. Matt was too cute for words, and the way he spoke, flustered and quick, had Foggy already charmed way more than he knew he should be. "And you just stitched yourself up after your little tumble?"  
  
"My friend did," Matt chuckled, nervousness leaving his tone--though, only marginally--and replaced by something that sounded like weariness. Foggy had the feeling Matt was directing it at himself, and frowned. He didn't like the idea of Matt beating himself up over whatever it was Matt was blaming himself for. "She's a nurse. Bandages me up a lot."  
  
"Because you're so clumsy?" Foggy raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yup! Yes, that's why," Matt said quickly. He reached over and grabbed one of the menus pinned against the wall. He was holding it upside down. "So," Matt said a bit desperately, obviously wanting to change the subject, "What's good here?"  
  
"You're the one that suggested the place," Foggy reminded gently, convinced his fondness was audible in his voice.  
  
"Right," Matt mumbled, bright red, "you're right. I did."  
  
Foggy couldn't help the stupid smile that stretched across his face. Matt was hiding his face behind the menu, and Foggy was tempted to reach out and pull it out of the way. Instead, he pulled out a menu of his own, and asked, "So, what _is_ good here?"  
  
"I like their pasta," Matt said weakly.  
  
"You can never go wrong with pasta," Foggy said cheerfully, dropping his menu to the side. He looked around, and caught the eye of a girl standing by a counter, behind which were doors that Foggy assumed lead to the kitchen. She smiled and bounced--actually _bounced_ , Foggy had never seen someone so excited to wait a table--over to them.  
  
Giving their order was a nice reprieve for Foggy from his inability to check his words before they came spilling out. He could tell Matt needed it, too, from the way the tension in Matt's shoulders eased. Matt's smile was more genuine when he turned back to face Foggy.  
  
"So," Matt shoved his menu back behind the condiments, against the wall. "What do you do?"  
  
"I'm a, uh, lawyer, actually," Foggy said sheepishly, fidgeting with his hands. He really wanted to grab Matt's, and it made difficult for him to remember what he would _normally_ do with his hands in this situation.  
  
"Really?" Matt perked up, "So am I."  
  
"Wow, wasn't expecting that. I mean," Foggy quickly fumbled, "it's just. I don't know? I don't want to say 'you don't look like a lawyer' because what does that even _mean_ , right? But there's something very," he flapped his hands uselessly, "I dunno. Honest? Sweet? About you. Very, um." Foggy felt himself blushing, "I'm, I don't think I know what I'm saying."  
  
Matt was smiling, amused. He cocked his head to the side, "what did you think I did, when we first met?"  
  
"Didn't really think about it," Foggy huffed, "wasn't really _thinking_ very well, if you'll remember."  
  
Matt laughed, and Foggy was really, really close into giving into temptation and just grabbing Matt's hand.  
  
"You could probably be a stripper, if you really wanted, body like yours." Matt froze, and Foggy groaned. "Oh my god. I'm--I should leave. Yup. Awkwardly just leave, and you can laugh about this with your friends, and I will just. I don't know. Hide under a rock for the rest of my life. Maybe adopt a dog. I like dogs."  
  
"No!" Matt jumped, catching Foggy's hand, though Foggy hadn't actually moved. "No, stay, please."  
  
"I--um, yeah." Foggy breathed, "yeah, okay."  
  
Matt beamed at him, holding his hand a little tighter.  
  
"Karen wants me to get a dog," Matt said after a moment, "I keep telling her I don't need one, but she won't listen."  
  
"I can see why, Mr. I Am Blind And Clumsy And Fell Down The Stairs After Walking Into My Door," Foggy teased. Matt huffed.  
  
"I was having an off morning," Matt defended, "I'm not usually _that_ bad."  
  
"Yeah, that's why you _don't_ have a nurse friend that is used to bandaging you up, right?"  
  
Matt opened his mouth, then closed it. "You really _are_ a lawyer, aren't you?"  
  
"Why would I lie about that?"  
  
"People lie about different things, for different reasons," Matt shrugged and Foggy snorted.  
  
"That's a pretty pessimistic view, Mister," Foggy trailed off, realizing he didn't know Matt's last name. "Huh."  
  
"Murdock," Matt supplied.  
  
"Matt Murdock," Foggy smiled, "I like it."  
  
Matt blushed, again, but was smiling. Foggy took the opportunity to slip his fingers between Matt's, no longer trying to hold himself back from holding Matt's hand.  
  
"Sorry," their waitress interrupted, sounding like she meant it. She was holding there food, smiling, though it was a tad sheepish. They leaned out of the way to give her space to put down their plates, but Foggy didn't let go of Matt's hand, and Matt made no move to let go, either. "Enjoy your meal," their waitress said cheerfully, promptly turning to leave, giving them some semblance of privacy.  
  
They talked while they ate. The food was good, but Foggy was way more focused on the man sitting across from him. At one point, they were both laughing too hard to keep eating. By the time they were finished eating, Matt's face was red from laughter, and Foggy's sides hurt, and they were both smiling widely. Foggy scooped up the check before Matt had a chance, ignoring Matt's protests.  
  
"I suggested the place," Matt argued.  
  
"Yeah, but _I_ asked you out." Foggy placed his card on the tray and held it out to the waitress, stretching his arm to keep it out of Matt's reach. "Quick," he said to her, "before he gets it."  
  
She giggled at the two of them, but dutifully took the check and Foggy's card.  
  
"I pay next time," Matt huffed. He looked like he wanted to cross his arms, but his hand was still in Foggy's.  
  
"Sure, sure," Foggy placated, giddy at the idea of there being a _next time_ ,"sounds fair."  
  
"How about dinner?" Matt said, his free hand fiddling nervously with his tie.  
  
"Dinner sounds nice," Foggy hummed happily, "when?"  
  
Matt bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. "I was hoping. Um. T-tonight? If--If, you're free."  
  
"Tonight?" Foggy breathed, "yeah! Yeah, I'm free. Totally free. Completely, yup. Absolutely."  
  
The waitress slipped up beside the table, placing the tray with Foggy's card and receipt on the table quickly, and slipping away just as quick.  
  
"Good," Matt smiled, looking relieved. "That's--good."  
  
Foggy's phone rang, and both he and Matt jumped, startled. It was Marci's ringtone.  
  
"I should, I should get this," Foggy fumbled for his phone, "sorry."  
  
"You're late, Foggy-bear," Marci crooned dangerously, and Foggy knew that tone of voice. "Don't worry, I covered for you, but you owe me."  
  
Foggy heard the phone click, and he knew Marci hung up on him. He stared dumbly at his phone for a moment, then sighed, resigned. The only reason Marci would've called to let him know he was late was if she had gone in with a favor in mind. Probably had watched the clock, waiting for her chance to strike.  
  
"Sorry," Foggy apologized to Matt again, "but, I have to get back to work."  
  
"It's no problem," Matt smiled gently, "I should probably be getting back, too."  
  
They both stood, and Foggy automatically offered his arm, grinning when Matt took it just as easily. They walked out onto the street, and hovered, both reluctant to part.  
  
"So, I'll see you tonight?" Matt finally said, slipping his hand from Foggy's elbow. Foggy felt cold at the loss.  
  
"Y-yeah, yeah," Foggy nodded. "I just nodded."  
  
Matt grinned, "I'll, um, call you? With, uh. Details?"  
  
"Sure," Foggy watched as Matt wavered a moment, before taking a deliberate step away from Foggy. He nodded.  
  
"Okay," Matt said, stepping backward, away from Foggy. "Tonight."  
  
"Tonight," Foggy confirmed. "Bye, Matty."  
  
Matt smiled. "Bye, Foggy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a very high likelihood that this'll get a third chapter, because they have a whole second date to go on, let's be really really real.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy and Matt go on a second date (and hit more relationship milestones than most couples do in a year).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I'm sorry this took so long. This week was the first of a 4-week semester for me, which means less time to write. ):
> 
> However! The third chapter is here! Thank you all for the lovely comments and for leaving kudos!!

Marci had yet to cash in on her favor, and it was making Foggy nervous. Granted, he tried to sooth himself, it hadn't even been a whole day. There was still time. That made him even more worried. Foggy's never liked being in dept to Marci. This, however, was not the time to think about it, as Matt was jogging towards him, smiling.

"Hey, Foggy," Matt said, a slight pant to his words. Foggy ignored the immediate spike of heat he felt, hearing Matt breathless from exertion. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's no problem," Foggy replied honestly, moving automatically to catch the hand Matt offered, tucking it into his elbow. Trying to seem at least a little more put together, Foggy forced himself to lead them into the restaurant before getting lost in Matt. "Marci found out we were going out again, and I had to shake her off my tail, anyway."

Matt laughed, leaning a little into Foggy's side. Foggy swallowed, and Matt spoke up, "That's funny. Karen held me up, actually, to interrogate me."

Matt led them over to the host, and Foggy took in the place. More ritzy than where they had lunch, and Foggy felt suddenly guilty, despite the fact that Matt was, once again, the one to suggest the place. Foggy leaned in to whisper to Matt, keeping his voice low and even.

"This place seems kind of," Foggy hesitated, "upscale."

"It's no problem, Foggy." Matt smiled, "I want to treat you to the best."

"O-oh," Foggy stumbled, and Matt breezily asked for a table for two. Foggy was off-kilter, blushing. Matt was grinning at him, and Foggy felt the sudden need to fill the air with conversation.

"So," Foggy said a bit too loud, a bit too quick. He winced. "How was work?"

Matt hummed, thinking about it. "Fine, the usual, I suppose. You?"

"Good," Foggy managed, "I mean, nothing too exciting. Everything seems kind of dull, after spending time with you." Foggy froze. "Oh my god," he groaned, too caught up to notice the way Matt's hand followed his arm when Foggy brought his hands up to cover his face, still tucked in the crook of his elbow, "oh my _god_ , am I ever going to stop doing that?"

"It's fine," Matt murmured. Foggy dropped a hand to peek at Matt. Matt was blushing, but smiling softly. "I don't mind. I-I, um. Like it, actually."

Foggy grinned, and opened his mouth to say something in reply, but was cut off by the host calling Matt's name. They were led to their table, which had a table cloth, and candle, and cloth napkins. The whole shebang. Matt slipped his hand from Foggy's elbow to pull out Foggy's chair for him, and Foggy felt himself blush even harder.

Once seated with their menus and drinks on the way, Foggy leaned in slightly, and said teasingly, "bit egotistical, are you, Murdock?"

"W-well," Matt was flushing a darker red. "It's--I, uh. It's more that I like listening to you? I like your voice."

"O- _oh_ ," Foggy breathed, "um." Foggy cleared his throat. "Thank you?"

"Also," Matt continued, forcibly matter-of-fact, "I think it's very cute, they way you give a compliment so easily, and then get so flustered."

"I don't know if 'cute' is the word I'd use," Foggy grumbled, "'mortifying', maybe. 'Cute' is for babies, and kittens, and lawyers I met in a bar who have smiles like sunshine."

"The burgers here are good," Matt said suddenly. Foggy blinked. Matt was fidgeting with his menu, gazed fixed on his fingers, almost as if he could see them. He was a light pink, and was smiling faintly.

"I like burgers," Foggy hummed, completely taken in by Matt. Totally gone on this man he had just met. "I'd probably marry you." Matt's attention snapped to Foggy, eyes wide. "Oh my god, _oh my god_ ," Foggy floundered, horrified, "that was _really_ intense, and I am so sorry, oh my god."

"Don't be," Matt said quietly. His shocked expression was slowly melting away, only to be replaced by a soft, fond look. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "It's fine, Foggy, really."

"How is it fine?" Foggy argued, still horrified and panicked, flapping his hands ineffectually, "I literally just--that was. Oh my god."

Matt caught one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. "Foggy," Matt said calmly, steadily. "It's fine. Trust me."

"O-okay," Foggy flushed, flustered and grasping for words as he took in Matt's soft expression and his words, "okay, yeah."

Matt smiled, and squeezed Foggy's hand. "Good."

Foggy licked his lips and took a deep breath to steady himself. "At least I'm doing better than I was last night," Foggy chuckled weakly. "If--uh. You count an accidental proposal better than drunken rambling."

"Well, at least you're sober," Matt joked lightly. Foggy found himself rolling his eyes at the teasing, embarrassment evaporating quickly.

"Are you ready to order?" Both Foggy and Matt startled at the sudden appearance of their waiter. The waiter was politely placid, unbothered. They gave their orders, and handed back their menus with polite "thank you"s.

"I hope Marci and Karen never meet," Foggy said suddenly. It was a very obvious attempt to change the subject. Matt raised an eyebrow. "Just--I don't know. There's something very frightening about the idea. Plus, Karen seemed very sweet, and Marci'd probably eat her whole."

"Who knows," Matt offered, "maybe Karen would soften her up some."

Foggy snorted, "not likely. I mean, Marci's great, but she can smell blood a block away. And she _will_ attack."

"She sounds terrifying," Matt said. He made a quiet noise, "Not to sound, rude, or anything."

"No, no," Foggy flapped his hand, waving away Matt's words, "it's cool. She is." Matt laughed. "Kinda why we didn't work out."

Matt hesitated, smile frozen in place, "you used to date?"

"Yeah," Foggy said easily, "back in college. It didn't work out, but we stayed friends." Foggy saw the stiff way Matt was holding himself, and leaned in to whisper, overly serious, "She didn't like to cuddle."

Matt burst into laughter, like it was startled out of him. "I assume that's a deal breaker for you?"

"Cuddling is very important, Matt," Foggy said, serious, but no longer overly so.

Matt chuckled, nodding, "I believe you."

"I'm serious," Foggy narrowed his eyes. "Cuddling is vital."

"I love cuddling," Matt said, raising his free hand in surrender. "Love to cuddle, it's my favorite pastime." Foggy laughed lightly at how earnestly Matt was arguing his point, his heart warmed.

"Honestly, though," he said, "I think I'd give up cuddling for you. Luckily," he continued, tone teasing, "I won't have to, knowing how much you _love_ cuddling."

"Yup," Matt said, smiling, "like I said, love it."

"That's good," Foggy couldn't stop smiling, "I'm really good at it. It's my secret talent."

"Oh, really?" Matt asked, leaning forward. Foggy's breath caught as Matt's smile turned into a smirk, far more mischievous and with just a hint of sex.

"Don't believe me?" Foggy teased, heart racing.

"I think I'd like proof," Matt hummed.

"I think that can be arranged," Foggy said, trying not to choke on his words. Matt smiled, but, unlike Matt's usual adorable, sunshine-y smile, this smile had Foggy's blood pumping and breath hitching. Arousal flooded his system, and he was dizzy with it. Foggy licked his lips, unthinkingly leaning closer to Matt.

Someone cleared their throat. Foggy jerked back in his seat, and a quick glace at Matt told him that he was straightening as well. Their waiter was standing by their table with their food, looking impressively unfazed. Foggy flushed, averting his gaze to the table. The waiter placed their food in front of them, and left with a polite-but-bland nod.

Foggy glanced up at Matt and saw that the man was sitting there with a smug smile. Figures, Foggy huffed to himself. Of course Matt would get flustered at compliments, but be completely shameless when it comes being caught out in the middle of a sex-drenched, innuendo-filled conversation. Cute and shameless. Foggy had been right from the beginning--he was so, _so_ screwed.

"You're dangerous, Murdock," Foggy hissed accusingly. Matt's smug smile widened.

"More than you know."

Matt licked his lips, and Foggy mirrored the movement. He opened his mouth to say something suave--maybe a little cheesy to get Matt to grin, but nothing that would ruin the moment.

"You're probably a sex fiend." Foggy made a strangled sound. "Holy shit," he muttered to himself. "This is worse than the proposal."

Matt burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, I think I love you," Matt giggled. His words caught up to him, and he froze, eyes widening. " _Oh my God,_ " he whispered, horrified.

"Oh my god," Foggy echoed, eyes equally as wide, words equally as quiet.

"I'm--I--" Matt's mouth worked as he tried to form words.

"At least it wasn't me, this time," Foggy said, strangled. Matt brought the hand not holding Foggy's up to his face, covering his eyes. Foggy figured it was for comfort from the movement. "It's not that bad, Matty, I swear! Compared to _marriage proposal_ this is probably nothing." Foggy was rambling but he couldn't stop himself, "It's not like anyone's talking about white dresses or babies or anything. And, really, I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile. I'm surprised I haven't said anything about it yet." Foggy snapped his jaw shut, wincing when his teeth bit the tip of his tongue.

"Well," Matt said weakly, hand still over his eyes, "we're even, now."

Foggy let out a strangled laugh, "we're getting all the hard topics out of the way early on, what will we fight about in the future?"

"We'll find something, I'm sure," Matt murmured. His hand fell from his face, hitting the table with an audible _thwack_. "Wait, f-future?"

"Yeah. We're already breaking out the l-word. I've already spilled the beans about the proposal," Foggy shrugged. "Sorry, I shrugged. But, it seems like a pretty sure thing, here. Some sort of future. You--uh. You don't mind, do you?" Foggy's speech picked up, nervous that he was coming on too strong. That Matt hadn't meant to become anything serious. "I mean, I don't want to _assume_ \--it's just--"

"Foggy," Matt said quietly, cutting off Foggy's panicked words, "it's okay. Just--just breath."

"Breath, right," Foggy nodded, taking a deep breath. "Breathing is good."

Matt spoke evenly, soothingly, as Foggy calmed himself down. Foggy loved Matt's voice, smooth and warm. _Home._ He focused on the sound more than the words. Matt was gently stroking his thumb over Foggy's hand.

"Sorry," Foggy mumbled. He had gotten some control over himself. His breathing was evening, his heartbeat slowing. "That was dramatic."

"There's no need to be sorry, Foggy," Matt said matter-of-factly, ignoring Foggy's weak attempt to pass it off as a joke.

Foggy just shrugged, poking at his burger.

"I think we're going to have to let go," Foggy squeezed Matt's hand to indicate what he was talking about, "burgers are kind of a two-hand task."

"Yeah," Matt said quietly, not pulling away. Foggy huffed a laugh.

"C'mon, Matty, before the food gets cold."

Matt reluctantly, lingeringly let go. Foggy caught his hand before he could completely pull away, hesitating a moment, before dropping it.

"So, while we're getting the big stuff out of the way," Foggy said teasingly, trying to break up the silence, "do you have any deep dark secrets I should know about?"

Matt hesitated.

"Oh, god. You do, don't you? You hate babies. That's it, isn't it?" Foggy cried dramatically, "I was looking forward to fatherhood, Matt!"

"Sorry," Matt smiled. "Too loud," he gestured towards his ear.

Foggy made a thoughtful noise while he chewed, "What about a dog?"

Matt's nose crinkled, "Sensitive nose, too."

Foggy jokingly huffed, "I need something small and cute to love, Matt. You're adorable, but babies and baby animals bring a special light to your life."

"I think," Matt started, voice soft, eyes down, "if you wanted a baby--" He cut himself off, blushing bright red. Foggy grinned, suspecting what Matt was going to say next.

Foggy hummed, light and happy, "This probably _is_ a conversation we should put off. I'm no hussy, Matt," Foggy deadpanned, "I'm not having your babies until _at least_ the third date."

Matt choked on his burger, laughing.

"Sorry," Foggy managed through laughter of his own. "Are you okay?"

"F-fine," Matt nodded, giggling.

"Oh, man," Foggy sighed, "I have no idea how I'm going to top that one. Sorry, Matt, it's pointless to continue to spend time with me. You got the best you'll ever get. Now, I'll end up just boring you to death."

"I'll chance it," Matt said, smiling softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to give in and accept that I've lost control of my life. This has gone from being possibly a multi-chapter _thing_ to being a multi-chapter _monster_. As such, I'm just gonna go ahead and let this fic be marked as incomplete after my 4-week class. Until then, however, I'll let it fly since the updates are going to be sporadic at best.
> 
> On another note, I'm debating throwing in some Marci/Karen. What say you? Yay or nay?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! This is an insanely short chapter, but I wanted to post something before the week started up again and I had absolutely no time.
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't replied to the comments yet. I haven't found time to sit down and give them the attention they deserve, but I've read them all and oh my god I love you guys??? Thank you so much.

Foggy walked Matt home, even though he lived twenty minutes away by foot. Both were reluctant for their night to end. They did everything they could to drag out the inevitable; Matt lead them around the long way, and Foggy didn't mention it. Their pace was slow and relaxed.

The night was cool--cold enough that Matt had an excuse for how close he was standing to Foggy, but not so much so that it was unpleasant. Foggy's warmth was comforting, and Matt didn't stop himself from pressing closer.

"You should've seen Marci's face! Man, she was so mad," Foggy chuckled. They were trading stories as they walked. Matt's face hurt from how much he was smiling. "Honestly, I'm not sure how I'm still alive."

"Maybe you're just lucky," Matt murmured. He ran his hand down Foggy's arm, trying to make the motion seem absent-minded. Finding Foggy's hand, Matt slipped his palm against Foggy's, intertwining their fingers.

"Must be, to have met you," Foggy hummed easily. He grimaced. "Oof, bad. That was bad, wasn't it?"

"A little," Matt laughed. "Sappy."

"You like sappy," Foggy sounded happy, "I can tell."

Matt hummed. Their shoulders bumped together, but neither of them moved away. Matt stroked the back of Foggy's hand with the pad of his thumb. "Yeah," Matt admitted, "I do."

Foggy didn't say anything for a moment, and when he spoke, his words were accusing. "You're a total sap, aren't you? Like, the kind that does things 'just because' or tells their partner they're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen when they both know a garbage can is more attractive at that point, because it's 6 am and they both just woke up or kisses them even though they're sick."

Matt didn't answer.

"That's not fair," Foggy said with a groan. "No, Matt. You are not allowed to be _that inhumanly attractive_ and a sap. It's against the law, I would know, I am a lawyer."

Matt snorted, laughs dissolving into giggles. Matt leaned heavier against Foggy, trying to bite back the giggles without much success.

"Oh, yeah," Foggy muttered, "don't forget that he is also the _fucking cutest_. Absolutely unfair."

Matt huffed, "And you're the sweetest person to walk this earth, so it's not like I've got it any easier."

"I will fight you, Murdock," Foggy threatened, "don't think I won't! You are a fucking gift."

"I will have you know, I am a very good lawyer, Nelson," Matt countered, "I can make a very strong case. It is indisputable that God has blessed the earth with your very existence."

They were both getting aggressive in their words, but they were both giggly, smiling and leaning into each other.

"This is the stupidest argument I have ever been part of," Foggy laughed after a moment, "and that's really saying something."

"I've been in stupider," Matt offered lightly, smiling teasingly.

"Now you're just showing off," Foggy huffed, slipping an arm around Matt's waist to pull him closer. Matt's smile widened.

"Well," Matt hummed, "it's not everyday someone ends up in an argument about the legitimacy of a blind lawyer."

"What? How did--what?" Foggy was at a loss for words, horrified at the thought. Matt was still smiling, but there was a hint of annoyance.

"Someone suing one of my clients," Matt offered, tone bemused, "they asked how I could be a lawyer if I was blind. 'Don't you have to go to school for that?'" Matt started chuckling, "Karen punched them before I could even react."

"Good," Foggy stated firmly. Matt was taken aback by how fierce Foggy's words were. "That's--awful really. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that logic, honestly."

Foggy's hand tightened on Matt's waist, and Matt realized it was protectiveness that had Foggy so sharp and tense. "It's fine," Matt tried to soothe, "we won the case and Karen broke their nose."

"I should send Karen some flowers," Foggy hummed. Matt giggled.

"F-for breaking someone's nose?"

Foggy shrugged. "For looking out for you."

"I can look out for myself, Foggy." Matt said, mildly defensive.

"Yeah, but it's always nice to know someone's got your back," Foggy said lightly. "It's good not to be alone, Matty."

"Yeah," Matt replied softly, "it is."

 

When they finally reached Matt's front door, they lingered. Matt fidgeted with his keys, and Foggy shifted his weight.

"I guess, I should," Foggy waved vaguely behind him, "um, goodnight?"

"Wait," Matt caught Foggy's hand, "wait. I want to--I mean, is it okay if I--" Matt sighed, frustrated with himself. He was blushing, but determined. "Can I kiss you?"

Foggy's heart had been racing the whole night, but Matt heard it pick up, felt the heat of Foggy's blush. Foggy choked on his words, stumbling before finally getting a strangled, "yes, of course, _please_."

Matt grinned, splitting and stunning, reaching out to cup Foggy's face in his hands. The cool metal of Matt's keys, hooked around his finger, pressed against the soft skin of Foggy's cheeks.

The kiss was gentle, sweet. Their lips slid together, their noses bumped. Matt drew back slightly, giggling against Foggy's lips. Foggy's hands landed on Matt's hips, tugging him closer. Matt eagerly rushed forward for another kiss, their teeth clacking together, drawing laughter from them both, before Matt slipped his tongue past Foggy's lips. Foggy moaned, his hands running up Matt's back, fisting in fabric. Pulling, pushing, pressing Matt closer.

Matt broke the kiss, drawing back with a moan of Foggy's name. His hand scrambled behind him to get the door open, swearing lowly when the door didn't budge. Locked.

Matt flipped them, pressing Foggy's back into his door as he fumbled for his keys. Foggy's hands found Matt's face, drawing him back in for another kiss.

"Maybe," Foggy panted, "maybe I shouldn't come in."

Matt whined against Foggy's lips, pressing closer. Foggy kissed him again, sweeter and with an edge of desperation. They broke apart, both gasping. Matt nodded, and took a step back.

"You're," Matt cleared his throat, lust thick in his voice, "you're right."

"We can take this slow," Matt made a small, broken noise, and Foggy corrected himself, "Slow-ish."

"Slow--slow works. If--if you want to go slow," Matt said.

"I'm not easy, Murdock," Foggy joked. He paused, taking in the way they were both flushed and panting, "At least, _supposedly_." There was a pause, then Foggy spoke again, sounding resigned, "Slow is probably a lost cause."

"Probably," Matt smiled easily. "I was ready to put out last night; wanted to kiss you, but I was doing my best not to sleep with you until we at least had coffee."

Foggy made a strangled noise. "Right. Yup, okay. But _slow_ , s-so. Not tonight. W-we still have to get that coffee!"

"Of course," Matt said lowly, voice honeyed and smooth.

"L-like I said," Foggy said, his hand already reaching out to pull Matt in again, "I'm no hussy. Third date, at least, Murdock."

"Sounds reasonable," Matt let himself be pulled in, "give us a chance to get to know each other better."

"Right," Foggy mumbled. "Can I kiss you, again?"

Matt smiled, and Foggy got the distinct feeling that Matt was laughing at him.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No," Matt laughed.

"Liar."

Matt caught Foggy's lips in another kiss, slow but building. Foggy broke the kiss, dragging air in past his lips, still pressed close to Matt, leaning his forehead against Matt's.

"I really should go, now," Foggy said, making no move to do so. Matt nodded, but did not let go of Foggy, holding tightly to his hips. "I should go, and I can call you, so we can set up that third date."

Matt squeezed Foggy's hips. "I have coffee inside," he offered weakly.

Foggy chuckled. "Maybe next time." Foggy sighed, then said quietly, "I want to, Matty, believe me, I do."

Matt nodded and, unable to help himself, kissed Foggy once more. Then, he took a step back, and out of Foggy's way.

"Goodnight, Matty," Foggy said, reluctantly taking a step away.

"Goodnight, Foggy," Matt said, reluctantly taking a step towards his apartment door.

They both hesitated. Foggy huffed, promised to call, and forced himself to leave. Matt listened to his footsteps, and didn't walk into his apartment until he heard Foggy hit the street corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Marci/Karen seems to be pretty popular, so the next chapter will probably be about them, to establish their relationship. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marci and Karen go on a date, because lesbians. Also, asshole best friends strike again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I have officially made it through two weeks of my four-week class, and in celebration I present to you Marci/Karen.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for leaving comments and kudos! You guys are the best. <3

"Hey, gorgeous. What are you up to tonight?"  
  
"Not answering a booty call, if that's what you were hoping."  
  
"No? Why bother answering, then?"  
  
" _I_ was hoping for a date."  
  


* * *

   
The coffee shop was relatively empty, despite it being a Friday afternoon--a small shop tucked away at an intersection of two of Hell's Kitchen's less busy streets. Tiny and quaint, certainly nothing like a chain business like Starbucks. Other than Marci, there was only a college-age kid hiding away in the back corner of the shop, a harried-looking business man at the counter, a woman in workout clothes waiting for her drink, and the barista.  
  
The door swung open, the bell on the handle tinkling quietly. Karen, flushed pink and breathing slightly harder than normal, walked in, eyes darting around the small space. As soon as she spotted Marci, she smiled, making her way over. Marci stood, demeanor calm and composed, but the form fitting dress Karen was wearing had her remembering why she had approached the woman in the first place. The pink cheeks and cute smile were reminding Marci of why she had had the fleeting thought that it would be a bad idea to do so.  
  
Marci smiled in greeting, doing nothing to hide the sharp edge of it. Karen flushed a shade darker, and Marci's smile turned sharper still.  
  
"Should we order?" Karen said, her voice steady despite her blush.  
  
"I already know what I want," Marci said, giving Karen a pointed once-over. "Do you?"  
  
Bright red, Karen cleared her throat. "Yes," she said firmly.  
  
Marci barred her teeth in the shark's smile that got her through her internship at Landman and Zack that eventually lead to partnership. It was dangerous, but when she tinged it with _just_ enough sex, it also reeled in guy and girl alike; all at her mercy, making Marci _grin_. "Let's order, then."  
  
In line, Marci let her hand rest on Karen's lower back, not moving it even as they reached the counter. Marci insisted on paying and, while she did protest, Karen didn't put up much of a fight. The ease with which Karen let Marci take the lead shot a sharp thrill through her, dangerous and predatory. They waited for their drinks, and there was a tension in the air, like they were both biding their time, waiting for the other to break, or strike.  
  
"You know," Karen finally broke the silence when their drinks were ready, hands wrapped around the warmth of her cardboard cup, "I'm a little surprised you actually waited three days. A bit cliché, don't you think?"  
  
"One shouldn't fix what's not broken," Marci stated simply, "it works."  
  
"Yes," Karen grinned, "but it's very predictable. People will know what you're trying to do."  
  
"That's not always a bad thing," Marci smirked. Karen laughed. The reaction surprised Marci, who was expecting another blush, or a shy smile, or a roll of the eyes. Anything but a laugh that sounded like bells, happy and warming.  
  
"No, I guess it's not," Karen said, still laughing lightly. "Direct is always nice."  
  
"Efficient, too," Marci agreed faintly. Snapping herself out of her daze, Marci turned her voice dangerous and flirtatious again, "Shall we sit?"  
  
Karen nodded, smiling, letting Marci lead her over to a tucked away table. There was something about the smile that seemed off, but Marci couldn't place it. She pushed it to the back of her mind, deciding to mull it over later. Right now, she had a cute girl to try to convince to come home with her.  
  
"So," Marci started once they were seated, leaning in to telegraph interest. "How was your day?"  
  
Karen laughed, again. "Small talk, really?"  
  
"Directness may be nice," Marci allowed, smirking, "but I would hate to scare you off before I get to have my fun."  
  
"Fair enough," Karen hummed. "But! I will have you know, I'm no one night stand."  
  
"Of course not," Marci said easily, words coming out silky and without a thought.  
  
"Good," Karen nodded. She took a sip of her drink. She smiled at Marci, and Marci felt her heartbeat stutter. "My day was hell. Yours?"

 

* * *

  
It wasn't until later that Marci realized, with a start, that Karen had been _smirking_. Karen had been hiding a smirk behind her smile. Marci licked her lips, thinking about how there was more to Karen than she had first assumed--and about how her _fun_ had just begun.  
  
  
She did not think about how easily she promised Karen was more than just one night; refused to think about how it wasn't a lie.  
  


* * *

  
By Monday morning, Marci had had a whole weekend to think about her date with Karen, and she had come to three conclusions: first, that Karen was going to be _fun_ ; second, that Marci had no idea how to properly _date_ ; and third, that Foggy was _never_ going to find out.  
  
For once, Marci found herself not minding Foggy's mooning, draped across her desk and bemoaning the fact that, apparently, his new boy-toy was suddenly overwhelmed by his caseload. Not able to meet up again for who knows how long. A real _tragedy_ , if one were to believe Foggy's devastated moanings. It meant Foggy was too caught up in his own problems to notice that Marci was a little off.  
  
"He is an _amazing_ kisser, and it is not fair, because I will not be able to see him again until _who knows when_ , and--" Foggy paused, squinting up at Marci. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"What?" Marci's hands snapped away from her keyboard, but only slightly, so they were hovering and still poised. She forced herself to relax, gently lowering her hands back to the keys. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Bullshit!" Foggy called, sitting up straight. He fixed her with a glare, and she leveled him with a glare of her own.  
  
It turned into a heated stand-off, in which both of them refused to back down. Foggy clenched his jaw, and Marci knew he was going to give.  
  
"Fine," he said, pushing away from Marci's desk, "don't tell me."  
  
Foggy stood and walked out, shutting the door behind him with a sense of finality. Marci sighed sharply, and went back to work, hitting the keys a bit more harshly than necessary.  
  


* * *

  
Karen sighed heavily, rolling her eyes, as she listened to Matt's dejected thumping around in his office. Matt walked out into the reception area, holding a stack of papers. He walked up to Karen's desk and dropped the pile onto the wooden surface petulantly. Karen knew that if she had had a chair on the other side of her desk, Matt would have dropped himself into it.  
  
"You're pouting," Karen said simply, taking the stack of papers and tapping them against her desk to line them up.  
  
"I am not," Matt huffed, pouting.  
  
"Good," Karen smiled cheerfully, "then you won't mind me telling you all about the wonderful date I had."  
  
"Not at all," Matt waved a hand as if to invite her to continue. He paused, then added, a bit startled, "You met someone new?"  
  
"I do have friends other than you, Matt," Karen teased.  
  
"That's not--I know that," Matt said quickly. Trying to cover his stumbling, he cleared his throat and asked, "So, who is it?"  
  
"Her name is Marci," Karen bit back her smile at Matt's small, jerky reaction when he recognized the name. She knew that Matt couldn't see it, but she still felt the need to be careful. Karen preemptively answered Matt's next question, "We met at a bar."  
  
Matt nodded absently, and Karen bit her lip, suppressing her laughter. She could see the way Matt was restraining himself from mentioning Foggy. He had been going on about Foggy since their last date and, after having to listen to Matt the whole morning, Karen ceremoniously placed a ban on any talk of "cute, charming lawyers who are incredibly sweet, Karen, are you listening to me?". Matt fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt, and tried to sound interested. Tried to not sound distracted.  
  
"Where'd you go?"  
  
"We got coffee," Karen said with a faked flippancy. Matt let out a soft, distressed noise, and Karen couldn't hold her laughter back any longer.  
  
"You're awful," Matt declared, turning away from her and stalking back to his office.  
  
"You love me," she called after him. "And I'm not done telling you about my date! I listened to you, it's only fair!"  
  


* * *

  
Marci never admitted when she was wrong, on principle. Foggy, however, had no qualms about calling her out on her bullshit.  
  
"You fucked up," he stated succinctly, standing in the doorway of Marci's office not even a full hour later. "But, I am willing to forgive you, provided you suck it up and tell me what's wrong with you."  
  
Marci kept her expression pointedly blank. Foggy pointedly sat across from her, leveling her with a serious look.  
  
"If you don't tell me, I will start guessing," Foggy threatened. Marci stared at her computer screen as Foggy's eyes roved over her face, searching for even the slightest hint. A slow smile made its way across Foggy's face. "Is this about your date?"  
  
Marci glared at the unadulterated glee in Foggy's voice. She really hated how perceptive he could be.  
  
"It is, isn't it!" Foggy laughed, "Oh, man. What happened? You weren't able to seal the deal?"  
  
"Please," Marci scoffed. "When have I _ever_ not gotten what I wanted?"  
  
"Our last year of law school?" Foggy offered, smug and smiling, and Marci was flirting with the idea of hurting him just to get that look off of his face.  
  
"You still don't know what you missed out on," Marci sniffed. Foggy snickered, and Marci leaned forward and smacked him. Gently. On his shoulder. It was more of a love-tap, really.  
  
"Ow. Okay, okay, fine," Foggy huffed, rubbing his shoulder, "there's no need for violence."  
  
"A little pain can be fun, Foggybear," Marci said with a leering grin.  
  
"Well, now I'm definitely glad I turned you down," Foggy quickly leaned out of Marci's reach. "Kidding! Kinda."  
  
Marci rolled her eyes, "Whatever. That cute piece I picked up instead turned out to be plenty fun."  
  
"You scarred that kid," Foggy deadpanned, "he was never the same again."  
  
Marci shrugged, unbothered. "He had fun, too."  
  
"If you say so," Foggy said. "Don't think you're getting out of telling me about your date. I haven't forgotten. I want _details_."  
  
Marci rolled her eyes again, but leaned back in her chair to tell Foggy about the date, trying to sound put-out, hoping Foggy wouldn't pick up on anything.  
  


* * *

  
Karen got lunch from Matt's favorite Chinese place as a peace offering. Matt accepted cautiously.  
  
"This is a bribe," he said, but took the carton Karen held out to him.  
  
"Maybe," Karen shrugged, "but it's my turn to gush about my date."  
  
"It's only fair," Matt echoed her earlier words.  
  
Karen settled into the chair she had pulled in front of Matt's desk with a grin. She launched into her story about her date, editorializing along the way, making comments about how _hot_ Marci was, how Marci looked about ready to tie her up and eat her.  
  
"I'd probably let her," Karen stated, and Matt let out a quiet, choked 'mhm'. Karen grinned, "More than that, she was _cute_. Acted all dangerous and predatory, but it was just that. An act."  
  
"How can you be sure?" Matt asked softly.  
  
Karen snorted, "She _blushed_ when I told her I wanted more than sex."  
  
Matt sighed. "You should still be careful," he cautioned. Karen rolled her eyes.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, Matt. The super-hot, scary lawyer-lady is going to eat me up," she waved her hand through the air. She dropped her hand, landing on top of Matt's. She squeezed his hand. "I can look out for myself."  
  
Matt turned his hand over and squeezed Karen's hand back. "I just want to make sure you're okay."  
  
Karen huffed, fond and exasperated. She stood and picked up the trash left over from their lunch scattered across Matt's desk. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Matt's forehead.  
  
"I know," she said, "I appreciate it."  
  
Karen walked out of Matt's office, feeling his unseeing-gaze on her the whole way.  
  


* * *

  
"Oh my god," Foggy grinned, gleeful and bouncing a little in his seat. "Oh my god, you _like_ her, Marci!"  
  
"She's cute," Marci said, flippantly.  
  
"You _do_ have emotions!"  
  
" _I want to tie her to my bed_."  
  
"Yeah, but you also want to buy her flowers and kiss her face." Foggy practically squealed his next, "Oh my god!"  
  
"I hate you," Marci glared at Foggy. Her hand twitched for a pen, but all of the ones on her desk were currently in Foggy's hand. Marci really should've seen this coming when, halfway through her story, Foggy had started to gather them up, innocent as can be.  
  
"This is so cute," Foggy gushed, "I'm so happy for you, Marc!"  
  
"I will stab you, Nelson." Marci pointed a threatening finger at Foggy's face, and Foggy snickered. Marci crossed her arms, and leveled him with her best unimpressed glare.  
  
"I'm not seeing your problem," Foggy admitted when he finally managed to calm his laughter.  
  
"There isn't one," Marci said stubbornly.  
  
"I want to help, Marci," Foggy huffed, "but you have to give me _something_ to work off of."  
  
Marci clenched her jaw. After a moment of angrily glaring past Foggy's ear, she finally grit out, "I _don't date_."  
  
"That's not a problem, just--oh, _oh_." Foggy practically _giggled_ , and Marci felt her teeth grinding together, "Oh my god, Marci. Are you saying that you don't date, or that you _don't know how_ to date?"  
  
Marci pointedly did not reply, and Foggy choked on more giggles.  
  
"It's not that hard, Marci. You just do nice things, and take her nice places, and maybe kiss her a little," Foggy said, choking back his laughter. "Call her, and ask her on a second date."  
  
"I don't do _second_ dates," Marci said, and it somehow sounded like a threat. Foggy didn't laugh this time, his self-preservation instincts kicking in.  
  
"Dinner is usually a good idea," Foggy offered, smiling and far too cheerful, "you can never go wrong with dinner on a date."  
  
"I hate you," Marci declared after a moment. Foggy shrugged, standing from his chair.  
  
"I have work I actually have to get done," he said, walking to the door. He stopped with hand on the doorknob, grinning, "Good luck."  
  
Marci realized, belatedly, that Foggy had walked out with all her pens.  
 

* * *

  
"Are you free tomorrow night? I was thinking we could get dinner."  
  
"Sounds great. I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not have much (any) Matt/Foggy, and for that I apologize. But, Marci/Karen! Also, in either the next chapter, or the one after, we will have Foggy finding out that Matt is Daredevil. It's gonna be a blast.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marci was so, so screwed. And she wasn't even _getting_ screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This honestly was supposed to be a mattfoggy chapter but it accidentally?? became Marci/Karen??? Whoops, sorry. 
> 
> The next chapter, however, I've already started, and _that_ is gonna have the cute idiots, I can promise you that.

Foggy was lounging on his couch, clad in sweatpants and flipping through TV channels, when Marci burst into his apartment. He was _not_ moping, but Marci took one look at him, and scoffed.  
  
"Oh, this is _delicious_ ," Marci laughed. It was a mean laugh, and Foggy glared at her. "This is a whole new level of pathetic for you, Foggybear."  
  
"Don't think I don't know why you're here," Foggy grumbled, "I'm not helping you, if you're only going to be mean."  
  
"Honestly, I think _you_ are the one that needs _my_ help," Marci pouted that faux-sympathetic pout that Foggy had thought he had seen the last of when he had graduated high school. Foggy hated the fact that Marci was able to pull off the look with out looking juvenile. Instead, she just looked mocking, and Foggy had the sudden urge to straighten himself out and brush off the crumbs that had gathered on his chest. Or, maybe, check his face to see if any of his acne had come back. In a fit of rebellion inspired by memories of his teenage years, Foggy merely slumped further down in his seat, and glared at Marci.  
  
"You have a date in," Foggy picked up his phone and checked the time, "one hour. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something."  
  
"I don't need dating advice from you, Foggybear," Marci said with a roll of her eyes, "you've been on two dates and you haven't even fucked yet."  
  
Foggy stared at her for a moment, lost for words. "I think," he started, "I think you're missing something here, Marc."  
  
"I'm not missing anything," Marci said primly. Foggy took a closer look at Marci and realized everything about her in that moment could be described as _prim_ \--the way she was holding herself, the way she was dressed, the way she was standing at the edge of Foggy's couch, looking vaguely disgusted at the picture he presented. It worried Foggy--Marci was never _prim_ ; she was self-assured and confident, and always put-together, but _never_ prim.  
  
"You're _nervous_ ," he realized, filled with an awed sort of wonder. Marci, even more than never being prim, was _never nervous_. A sadistic sort of glee started to overtake Foggy, and it must have shown on his face, because Marci immediately stiffened, already on the defensive. "I have _got_ to meet this girl."  
  
Marci sneered, placing her hands on her hips. She took a threatening step forward, and Foggy threw up his hands in a sign of surrender.  
  
"Sorry, I'm sorry," he said between gasping breaths, trying to stifle his laughter. He sobered up, a few still laughs escaping him, but serious, "You'll be fine, Marci. The date'll go great, because you are great," it was always a good idea to stroke Marci's ego when she got that dangerous look in her eye, "and you will possibly even get laid tonight."  
  
" _One_ of us has to," Marci muttered scathingly, getting a vicious stab of satisfaction and amusement when Foggy choked on his laughter. "You sure you don't want any advice?" Marci offered innocently.  
  
"Get out of my house," Foggy coughed. "You're going to be late."  
  
Marci laughed as she shut the door behind her.  
  
 

* * *

 

Karen's skirt was sinfully short.  
  
This was the first thing Marci noticed. It took her a while to notice anything else.  
  
"Hey," Karen said, finally, and Marci's eyes snapped away from where the hem of Karen's skirt brushed against her thigh. Karen was smiling, smug and amused, and Marci's gaze turned sharp. She let a seductive smile turn up the corners of her mouth, taking a step closer to Karen.  
  
"It's good to see you again," Marci said, giving Karen a once-over. " _Really_ good."  
  
Karen blushed, but her smile didn't lose any of it's smugness. She grabbed Marci's hand, and Marci's predatory gaze dropped, replaced by a genuine smile.  
  
"Let's go in." Karen led Marci into the restaurant. Marci followed, surprised to be _following_.  
  
Karen stopped at the podium, giving Marci's name for the reservations. Marci stopped as well, in Karen's space. She could smell Karen's perfume, felt her warmth; Marci restrained herself from reaching out, wrapping her arms around Karen, pulling her flush against Marci's chest, fingers digging into flesh.  
  
They were led to their table, and only when they were seated, did Marci notice Karen's smug smile had transformed into a smirk. Marci realized she had lost the upper-hand, and quickly went about rectifying this.  
  
Marci leaned in, letting her hand trail up Karen's, her fingers loosely circling Karen's wrist. Karen's cheeks pinkened, and Marci grinned. She purposefully pushed out her chest as she leaned in even closer, licking her lips. Karen's eyes did not drop below her face, but they did watch the slow drag of Marci's tongue over her lip, and Marci counted that as a win.  
  
"It's--I, um," Karen stumbled over her words slightly, flustered. Marci leaned back in her chair, smug. Karen cleared her throat. "I didn't expect to get your call."  
  
It was a lie. Marci knew how to spot those--a useful talent for both the courtroom and bedroom. Still, she put on her best faux-hurt expression.  
  
"No?" She asked innocently, "After we had such a good time?"  
  
Karen's lip quirked at the corner before she hid it, pressing her lips together. "You don't seem like the dating type," Karen said matter-of-factly.  
  
"I'm not," Marci replied simply.  
  
Karen let her grin slip this time, teasing and sharp, and Marci felt her own lips curve in reply.  
  
"Then what makes me any different?" The question seemed innocent enough. Karen sounded genuine, but Marci was still cautious.  
  
"I like a challenge." It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the whole truth, either, but those were Marci's favorite.  
  
  
By the time they placed their orders, they had both relaxed. Their conversation fell into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Marci did her best to trip Karen up, to get her flushed and stuttering, to get her to give in and submit. Karen was devious and clever, never falling for a trap Marci set up, and laying out traps of her own.  
  
By the time their food arrived, Marci was grinning, just as dangerous as all her previous grins, but this one was real. An expression of real pleasure. Karen was smiling as well, eyes bright with fire and delight. She was gorgeous, Marci was startled by the thought.  
  
Marci knew, of course, that Karen was beautiful. But the way Karen lit up, didn't yield, gave as good as she got. Karen was _perfect_ , and Marci was screwed.  
  
"Marci?" Karen's voice drew Marci from her thoughts. Karen was smiling a soft smile, inquisitive, with a curious tilt to her head, blonde hair cascading. Marci pasted a smile on her face, trying to get a grip.  
  
"Sorry," she apologized smoothly, thoughts racing.

 

* * *

  
  
Marci was sitting on her bed, trying to even her breathing. She had had a chance to go home with Karen. Karen had hesitated on the curb, door to her cab open. Instead of climbing in after her (on top of her, taxis are privacy enough for Marci), Marci had leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, slipping a piece of paper into Karen's hand, asking Karen to give it to Matt.  
  
Nervous breakdown, or no, Marci was going to get back at Foggy.  
  
Karen had smiled sweetly, confirmed their date for the next week, and slipped into the car. Marci had watched as the car drove away, immediately berating herself for not following Karen. For the warmth that had spread through her chest when she heard the eager happiness in Karen's tone at the idea of yet another date. _Another date_.  
  
Marci was so, so screwed. And she wasn't even _getting_ screwed.  
  


* * *

  
  
Foggy opened the door of his apartment, humming lightly to himself as he juggled his groceries. He barely jumped when he saw Marci sitting on his couch, curled up and in a pair of his sweats. With a sigh, he dropped his bags in his kitchen and dropped himself onto his couch, resigning himself to putting the groceries away later.  
  
"Did you get any rocky road?" Marci asked easily, and Foggy rolled his eyes.  
  
"If you want it, you have to get it."  
  
Marci glanced over the back of the couch, shrugged, and turned back to the TV.  
  
"I thought your date went well," Foggy said, halfheartedly shoving at Marci's feet, which she had dropped into his lap as soon as he had sat. She did not move them.  
  
"It did."  
  
"Then _why_ are you sitting on my couch, eating all my ice cream."  
  
"You ate all your ice cream," Marci grumbled. "I checked."  
  
"Still! You are still on my couch, in my sweatpants." Foggy's words were getting a little desperate, his hands waving as he tried to articulate the _wrongness_ of the situation. "You are not allowed to mope. You are allowed to see your cutie. _I_ , on the other hand, cannot. Therefore, I get dibs on moping."  
  
"Yeah, but it's kinda depressing when you mope," Marci's lip curled in disgust at the thought. "It's pathetic, and you get your," she flapped a hand in his direction, " _emotions_ all over everything. I had to hire a cleaning service last time."  
  
"Yes," Foggy said dryly, "because you are just a delight."  
  
"I hate you," Marci kicked at Foggy, and Foggy deflected it easily.  
  
"Of course," he said easily, "now. Are you going to tell me what's up with you, or what? I have dinner to be not making right now, in a truly inspiring fit of procrastination."  
  
After a silence that stretched long enough that Foggy had actually considered pushing Marci's feet from his lap and starting dinner, Marci finally spoke, "I didn't go home with her."  
  
"Yes," Foggy nodded, "you said she wanted to wait. I'm not seeing the problem."  
  
"I _could have_ gone home with her, but I _didn't_ ," Marci clarified, sounding frustrated. Foggy froze.  
  
"Okay," Foggy said slowly, "admittedly, I wasn't expecting that. But, I'm still not sure that that's really a problem?"  
  
Marci sighed heavily. She didn't elaborate any further, and Foggy sighed. The guessing game, again.  
  
"Does this have to do with your epic inexperience with the whole 'dating' thing?"  
  
Marci shrugged, and Foggy rolled his eyes.  
  
"You know, this would be much easier if you actually _talked_ to me."  
  
"It's a _problem_ ," Marci huffed, "because it means that I'm just as bad as _you_."  
  
"I will have you know that I am fucking _fantastic_ , thank you very much," Foggy sniffed. He caught the way the corners of Marci's lips quirked, and smiled himself.  
  
"I am _two_ dates in, and I haven't gotten laid once." Marci argued stubbornly.  
  
"I still think something is going over your head, here, Marc," Foggy said, "about the whole 'dating' thing."  
  
"You know what's not going over your head, Fog? Matt Murdock's ankles. There's your problem."  
  
" _Marci_ ," Foggy shrieked indignantly, spluttering. Marci smirked. Foggy didn't mention that Marci had no place to talk, but that was because he was a _good_ friend, unlike Marci.  
  
Marci shrugged, "All I'm saying is what I've heard about you and Murdock--which is a lot, because you _won't shut up_ , even when I ask nicely--"  
  
"--You never ask nicely--"  
  
"-- _even when I ask nicely_ ," Marci continued, "is that you could've been in his pants from day one."  
  
"You're the worst," Foggy groaned. "This was supposed to be about you and your misconceptions about how healthy relationships progress, not about me and mine."  
  
"So, you admit, you have misconceptions?" Marci asked innocently.  
  
"Not about how soon one should or should not bed their intended!"  
  
Marci snorted. "'Bed their _intended_ '? Are you _courting_ Murdock, now? Is he your _betrothed_?"  
  
"I hate you," Foggy muttered, "I hate you so much."  
  
"You better make me your Maid of Honor."  
  
"I can't if I kill you first."  
  
Marci grinned, "I've noticed you have yet to deny wanting to marry this man. Is it that serious already?"  
  
"I'm going to change my locks," Foggy threatened.  
  
"No you're not," Marci said easily. Foggy scowled at her.  
  
Foggy stood from the couch, leaving Marci sitting there, snickering. He started to empty his grocery bags, putting food away as he went. When he found the rocky road, he handed it to Marci along with a spoon. She was in a better mood already, he could tell, and he was glad. Awful or not, Foggy knew Marci was right when she said he wouldn't change his locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to [Edgebug](http://edgebug.tumblr.com/) for the amazing "You know what's not going over your head, Fog? Matt Murdock's ankles. There's your problem." line that was so perfect I absolutely _had_ to work it in


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears! I am _so, so sorry_ this took so long! Luckily, though, my class is over, and I can properly enjoy the freedom of summer. Meaning I have more free time to write (assuming I don't accidentally write a different fic—like what happened with [this one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4155024)—and my rl responsibilities don't overwhelm me).
> 
> I do apologize, once again, for taking so long with this chapter ~~(and the shameless self-promotion)~~. Thank you all so much for the support and for sticking with me, despite the incredibly long delay! You guys are the best! ♥

Foggy opened the door to see Matt standing there, shifting nervously. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and Foggy's eyes were drawn to the contrasting white against red.

" _Matt_ ," Foggy breathed, sounding a bit strangled. "Hi."

"S-sorry for dropping in on you like this," Matt said in a rush, "I just _really_ wanted to see you and I, um. Well." The hand that wasn't gripping Matt's cane with a death-grip fluttered uselessly in the space between them as Matt gestured. "I-if you're busy, I can--" Matt jerkily waved to the empty hallway behind him, already turning away slightly.

Foggy caught Matt's hand, "It's fine, I'm not busy."

Matt smiled, hesitant but happy. "Good, great," he sounded relieved. "I--I mean." Matt's teeth snapped together with a sharp _click_ , turning his face away, blushing.

Foggy laughed, soft and fond, not at all teasing. "Yeah," he said, "I know what you mean."

Matt nodded, obviously embarrassed. They stood in the doorway, Foggy's hand wrapped loosely around Matt's, both blushing faintly.

"Maybe," Matt cleared his throat, "maybe we should go in?"

"R-right," Foggy moved aside to let Matt past, "sorry."

Matt walked into Foggy's apartment, tentative, and Foggy started babbling from nervousness.

"S-sorry, the place is a mess. I would've cleaned if I knew you were coming over, but I--uh, didn't. Obviously. So, it's kind of, I mean--"

"It's fine, Foggy," Matt smiled, "it's not like I can see it, anyway."

"Yeah, but if you tripped over, like, my underwear," Foggy let out a small, horrified sound, but he couldn't stop himself from talking, "or something, we might actually have the first documented case of death by embarrassment," Foggy's words came out sounding strangled.

"We wouldn't want that," Matt said softly. Foggy got the distinct impression that Matt was trying not to laugh. "I am sorry I didn't call ahead, or something."

Matt sounded like he was about to start beating himself over it, so Foggy quickly intervened, "It's cool. I mean. I'm _really_ glad you're here. I missed you."

There was a beat of silence, then Foggy let out a strangled, "Oh my god."

Matt did laugh this time, but it was a relieved sound. "I missed you, too."

"Oh," Foggy said. "Oh, well. O-okay, then." Foggy cleared his throat, "S-so, uh. What do you want to do? We could watch a movie. I, uh, I know it probably doesn't have the same appeal, but I did some research and found that audio description is a thing, and I have a few movies, if--um, if you wanted?"

Matt looked stunned, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something, but didn't know what.

"O-or, or we could do something else! I don't actually have that much around here, but we could go out?"

"You did research?" Matt said, sounding like he didn't know what to do with this information. "You--you found movies with--?"

"Uh, y-yeah?" Foggy shrugged, "I mean, I wanted there to be something to do if you ever. Came over?"

"You did that for me?" Matt asked hesitantly.

"Well, yeah," Foggy said, brows furrowing. "It makes sense."

Matt licked his lips, leaning his cane against the wall, and taking a step towards Foggy. "I'm going to kiss you, now."

"What?" Foggy squeaked. "I mean--yeah, okay, su--"

Foggy's rambling was cut off by Matt's lips on his own. The kiss was wet, and Foggy was eager, pushing in too quickly, opening his mouth too widely. Matt pulled back slightly, not very far, raising his hands to cup Foggy's face. They were both panting. Matt moved back in, walking Foggy backwards, capturing Foggy's lips once again. Foggy's back hit the wall, and Matt pressed even closer, their bodies lining up, pressing together. Foggy wrapped one hand around Matt's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. His other hand found its way to Matt's hair, threading through the strands. He tightened his grip on Matt's hair, and Matt pulled back with a gasp, hips twitching forward, against Foggy's.

Matt stepped back, his hands falling to his sides, clenching and unclenching, like he wanted to reach out and grab Foggy again but was holding himself back.

"S-so," Matt's words came out rough, and he cleared his throat. "H-how about that movie?"

"Movie," Foggy said, unbalanced. He nodded, "Right."

Matt grinned, snatching his cane from the wall, and Foggy's hand. He tugged Foggy further into the apartment, and Foggy followed, still in a daze from the kiss.

"So, um," Foggy started, trying to get his thoughts together. "What do you want to watch?"  
  


* * *

  
Foggy shifted, and stood. It was the movement, he figured, that snapped Matt out of his movie-induced trance.

"Wha?" Matt said, more out of reflex than actual question.

"I--um. Just." Foggy found himself at a loss, unable--and unwilling--to explain his actions. He thought wildly for an excuse, any excuse, but the truth came tumbling out before he could stop it or come up with anything else. "It's just--you're in a suit, and that can't be comfortable. So, I thought I'd get you a change of clothes. Which sounds weird, now that I said it out loud, so maybe I'll just...sit down. And we can pretend that didn't happen."

Foggy stayed standing, fidgeting, and Matt gaped up at him, dumbstruck.

"That's--you're," Matt seemed at a loss for words. Then, he smiled. When he spoke, his words were soft with fondness. "That sounds nice, actually."

"O-oh," Foggy felt his face warming, "yeah, okay. Um, wait here, then. I'll be right back."

Foggy turned away from the couch, but Matt caught his wrist, stopping him.

"Foggy, wait." Matt tugged Foggy down by his wrist, and leaned up to meet Foggy half-way. He kissed Foggy, soft and quick. Matt smiled gently, and Foggy's heart stuttered. "Thank you."

Matt let go of Foggy's wrist and settled back down onto the couch. Foggy was frozen, leaned over towards Matt. A moment later, he snapped up straight, clearing his throat.

"Clothes, r-right. Okay." He nodded to himself.

Matt grinned.

Foggy staggered unsteadily to his room, leaving Matt on the couch. He tried to be as quick as possible as he grabbed a pair of sweats--slightly too small for Foggy himself, but he hasn't yet gotten around to donating them. (He refused to admit that his reluctance might stem from the fact that Marci seemed to favor the sweats, and they were the pair she always wore whenever she broke in.) Foggy also grabbed his favorite shirt, made ridiculously soft from many years of wash and wear.

When Foggy returned to the living room, clothes in hand, he found the movie paused and Matt wandering around, gently running his hand over all the details of the room. Foggy cleared his throat, alerting Matt to his presence. Matt startled, spinning around to face Foggy. He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," Matt snatched his hand back, "I, uh. G-got curious."

"No problem," Foggy shrugged. "I got the clothes."

"Ah. Um. T-thanks."

Foggy handed Matt the stack of clothes. They awkwardly stood there, neither of them quite sure of what to do next.

"You can change in the bathroom," Foggy offered, hoping to break the uncomfortable atmosphere, "it's the-the door on the, uh, left."

"Thank you," Matt repeated. Neither of them moved.

"Y-yeah, well," Foggy laughed awkwardly, "you've gotta be comfortable for a movie-date, right?"

"D-date, huh?" Matt stuttered, though there was a falseness to the innocence in his tone that had Foggy thinking it was at least partially an act. Foggy hummed.

"Well, yeah," he said with only mildly falsified ease, "all we need is dinner to make this the quintessential cliche date."

"I could eat," Matt grinned, lightly teasing. Foggy laughed.

"I'll call for delivery while you change. How does Chinese sound?"

"Sounds perfect."  
"Good," Foggy said cheerfully, "because there's this Chinese place down the street with egg rolls that are to die for. You _have_ to try them."

"Okay," Matt was still smiling, genuine and brilliant. "I'll go get changed."

Foggy watched Matt as he left the room, steadfastly trying not to think about the fact that Matt was about to undress only one room away. Foggy grabbed his phone and dialed the restaurant.  
  


* * *

  
Just as Foggy hung up the phone, Matt stepped into the living room. He had his suit draped over one arm. Foggy's clothes hung off of Matt's frame, slightly too large, but not so much so that he was drowning in fabric.

Foggy's heart lept at the sight of Matt in his clothes.  
  
"Food'll be here in twenty minutes, " Foggy managed to choke out. He, discretely, took a steadying breath, and tried again. "Or, at least, that's what they told me. These time estimates aren't always the most reliable."

Matt grinned, moving over to the couch to lay his clothes over the back of the couch. "Good, I'm starving."

"Did you miss breakfast again?" Foggy teased, following Matt down to the couch. They sat facing each other, paused movie all but forgotten. Matt chuckled.

"No," he said, "lunch, this time."

"Matt," Foggy was worried. From the sounds of it, Matt was terrible at taking care of himself.

"It's no big deal," Matt tried to wave off Foggy's concern. "Karen managed to force a power bar and some water into me in between forms."

" _Matt,_ " Foggy repeated, horrified. "That is _not_ a proper meal! You need to take better care of yourself."

Matt hummed thoughtfully, "So I've been told."

Foggy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I'm rolling my eyes at you," he told Matt.

Matt smiled weakly. Foggy rolled his eyes, again, and leaned in, fixing Matt with a stern look.

"I am giving you a very stern look right now, Murdock. I know you can't see it, but trust me when I say it's _very_ stern."

"I believe you," Matt replied immediately.

"Good," Foggy said firmly.

"Why do I get the feeling that that was a thinly-veiled threat?" Matt mused, going for joking but falling flat.

"Because it was," Foggy hummed cheerfully, leaning back against the arm of the couch.  
  


* * *

  
It wasn't until they were halfway through with the food, movie long forgotten in favor of talking and laughing together, that Foggy realized.

"How did you know where I live?"

Matt started stuttering immediately in reply. He was tripping over his words so much, they were unintelligible. Matt turned redder and redder, his stuttering getting worse and worse as he talked.

Foggy attributed the fact that it had taken him so long to think of the question to Matt's very distracting nature. He had been too caught up in Matt's smile, and Matt's laugh, and Matt's voice. Everything had become Matt, Matt, _Matt_. That, along with his shock and happiness at seeing Matt at his door, hindered his ability to think of the most obvious question.

Not that he would ever _tell_ someone something so embarrassing.

"Are you some sort of stalker?" Foggy joked just as Matt managed to spit out, "I promise I'm not a stalker!"

"I'm not!" Matt reiterated desperately, and Foggy was grinning. "It was--I was--it's. I can explain."

Foggy laughed, catching Matt's hands and lacing their fingers together, "It's okay, Matty, _breath_. Deep breaths, in and out."

"I got your address from Marci," Matt stated, less hysterical, but he had yet to take that breath Foggy had suggested. "Or, well, Karen got it from Marci, and she gave it to me."

"Should've guessed," Foggy said lightly, "she does like to interfere."

Matt ducked his head, hiding his face from Foggy. Foggy could see how pink Matt's ears were.

"What? What is it?" Matt shook his head, tucking his face against his upper arm. Foggy squeezed Matt's hands comfortingly, coaxing, "C'mon, Matty. Tell me."

Matt lifted his face. He was chewing his lower lip, obviously debating something.

"I-I, uhm, w-w-well," Matt flushed an ever darker red, pointedly facing away from Foggy. "It's--I, um. S-s-sort of. Asked? Karen? If she could get your address from Marci?"

Before Foggy had a chance to reply, Matt started stuttering again, flustered, words rushing and tripping. Foggy watched as Matt tried to stumble his way through further explanation, red as a beet, and couldn't stop the words from spilling from his mouth.

"Can I kiss you?"

Matt's mouth snapped shut.

"I-I-I mean," it was Foggy's turn to stutter. "It's just, you--you're--I'm--"

"Yes."

Foggy froze.

"What?"

"Yes, Foggy," a smile tugged at the corner of Matt's mouth. "Yes, you can kiss me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a sex thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this from my phone, and like the last part was basically completely written on my phone, so if there's any mistakes, I apologize. I'll fix it when I get back to a computer.
> 
> As always, thank you all _so much_ for all the comments and kudos. You guys are so fantastic.

Foggy tried to slip his key into the lock, missing a few times before finally managing to unlock his door. He pushed it open and stumbled into his apartment.

"Fuck," Foggy mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. He _had_ to stop letting Marci talk him into after work drinks. Foggy used the wall to steady himself as he made his way deeper into the apartment, wishing he hadn't drank so much. "It had seemed like such a good idea at the time," he muttered to himself, tripping over a shoe. He caught himself before he could fall, and glared in the general direction of the shoe. _Where the fuck did that come from_ , he wondered. "Where the fuck did that come from?" He asked aloud, looking up at the ceiling, as if it could give him an answer. When no reply came, Foggy just shrugged, and continued his staggering journey.

It wasn't until he was a few steps into his living room that he noticed he was not alone. Standing in front of his window was a dark figure. Foggy could tell that it was a man, because his outfit was _plastered_ to his _insanely fit_ body, but he couldn't make out the man's face. The man was back-lit by the streetlight filtering through the window, throwing his face into the shadows. Foggy's eyesight was blurry at best, way more drunk than he should be, but he was able to make out the dark red of the suit, and the devil horns on the cowl clutched in the man's hand.

_Daredevil,_ Foggy's alcohol-drenched brain supplied, and Foggy almost scoffed. _Back-lit and in the shadows, like he's The fucking Night, or some shit._ These masked-vigilantes were all the same type, and Foggy's just a little too drunk to deal with this.

Then, he realized why the man seemed _so fucking familiar._

"Matt," Foggy slurred, and he supposed it would've come out more shocked if he had been less intoxicated. He fumbled for the light switch, forgetting he wasn't by a wall anymore and nearly overbalancing himself. It was only momentary, and he managed to right himself quickly, but a quick glace back at Matt was enough for Foggy to confirm the other man had noticed his slight stumble. Matt had taken a step forward, arms raised away from his body, as if caught in the middle of an aborted action, looking ready to move forward and catch Foggy, if he needed.

Foggy actually did scoff, and shook his head as he made his way over to the wall, where the light switch actually was. The lights blinked on, and Foggy squinted against the offending brightness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, Foggy found Matt's eyes fixed on him, which _shouldn't be possible_ because Matt was _blind_.

There was a beat of awkward silence.

"I know you won't believe me," Matt said, slowly, "but this is _not_ what it looks like."

"Is it a sex thing?" Foggy asked, point-blank, his inhibitions gone with that last shot of fruity jet fuel that Marci had forced down his throat. Matt, however, did not have the encouraging fortification of alcohol coursing through his veins, and reacted the way any sane and sober person would: with absolute mortification. Matt was turning bright red, and spluttering. Foggy grinned. "I knew you were a sex fiend! Called it. I _totally called it_ on date two!"

"This isn't a sex thing!" Matt said, frantic and pleading.

"I dunno, Matty," Foggy hummed, snickering lightly, "skintight leather body suit? And are those _devil horns_? Is that _rope_? If it's not a sex thing, it looks an awful lot like one."

"It's not--why would--why would you think this is a sex thing?" Matt spluttered, blushing hard.

"I _just said_ ," Foggy rolled his eyes. He shot out a hand to brace himself against the wall, because _woah_ , bad idea, _dizzy._ "You're covered in skintight leather, and you're even a little beat up. What _else_ could it be?"

"It's not," Matt protested, a bit weakly. He raised a hand to cover his face, and Foggy smiled. He pushed himself away from the wall, taking careful measured steps towards Matt. He moved gradually across the room.

"Is it a dungeon thing?" Foggy asked, faux-serious and gleeful. Matt let out a quiet whine, his fist tightening around the cowl clenched in his hand. Foggy took another step towards Matt. "I'm not gonna judge you if it's a dungeon thing."

"I'm a masked vigilante!" Matt blurted out desperately.

"...it's a dungeon thing, isn't it?"

Matt took a few, fumbling steps forward. His hands landed on Foggy's shoulders, and Foggy startled. They were closer than he had thought. He huffed a small laugh to himself; that's what he gets for trying to be sneaky while this drunk. Fingers tightening on Foggy's shoulders brought Foggy's attention back to the man in front of him. Matt was so, so red, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn't find the words he was searching for.

"I am the Devil of Hell's Kitchen," Matt finally, pressingly exclaimed.

Foggy let a slow smirk stretch across his face, but did his utmost to keep his smug amusement out of his voice.

"So...like...you role-play, or...?" Foggy stretched his words and trailed off meaningfully, fighting back his snickers as Matt turned even redder, more flustered.

" _Foggy,_ " Matt groaned, pleading, "it's _not a sex thing_."

"Why won't you just tell me which club, Matty?" Foggy's smirk widened as he felt Matt's fingers flex on his shoulders--tightening enough to dig into Foggy's flesh, probably leaving bruises, only to quickly release their hold. "We could go together."

"It's not a sex thing, Foggy, I swear to God, _it's not a kinky thing, it's not a sex thing!_ " Matt looked--and sounded--to be on the verge of tears. Foggy didn't know if it was due to frustration, embarrassment, or desperation, but he decided to lay off some, having gotten in his laughs.

There was a pause.

Then, Foggy asked, completely serious, " _could_ it be a sex thing?"

Matt let out a startled chuckle, which quickly took on a hysterical edge, and was soon gasping for breath between his laughter.

Foggy wondered if he broke Matt.

"Did I break you?"

Matt shook his head, moving forward to press his face against Foggy's shoulder, trying to muffle his laughter. Foggy just raised his arms to wrap them around Matt, waiting for Matt's shoulders to stop shaking.

"Should I be worried?" Foggy said, concerned when Matt's laughter subsided only mildly, "should I call someone?"

Matt cupped Foggy's face in his hands, giggles slipping out even as he pressed his lips together in a tight line. Matt rested his forehead against Foggy's, still shaking.

Foggy shut his eyes as Matt's shaking jostled him, nausea flaring.

"I'm gonna puke," Foggy mumbled, weakly shoving at Matt's side. Matt flinched, and Foggy quickly withdrew his hand, tipping himself off balance. Matt caught him, steadying him.

Foggy blinked at the abrupt stop to his descent. He was pressed against Matt's chest, their lips a hair's breadth away. He could feel Matt's breath on his lips, shaky from residual laughter. His own breath hitched, and he rocked forward, capturing Matt's lips in a kiss. It was sloppy and wet and Foggy snorted.

"Sorry," he mumbled against Matt's lips, "I swear I'm not normally this drunk."

Matt laughed.

"It's fine, Foggy," he murmured.

"I totally just attacked your face with my mouth," Foggy continued as if he hadn't heard Matt. "I'm sorry, oh wow."

"It's fine," Matt repeated, residual chuckles shaking his words.

"So," Foggy drawled, leaning more heavily against Matt's chest, "what's the Devil of Hell's Kitchen doing in my living room in the middle of the night, if not for a late night rendezvous?"

Foggy felt Matt stiffen under him. He turned a curious eye towards Matt. Matt was blushing--it was hard to make out, but Foggy managed--and Foggy had to smother his smirk against Matt's shoulder. Foggy's fingers brushed Matt's side, and he froze.  
  
Warm and wet. Late night. Vigilante.

Foggy might've been drunk, but he wasn't an idiot.

"You're hurt." The words sounded empty, even to his own ears. Matt, still stiff--somehow _stiffer_ , now--shifted away, and Foggy immediately lamented the loss of warmth. Pushing that aside, he fixed Matt with the sternest, steadiest stare he could manage in his inebriated state.  
  
"I'm fine," Matt said, brushing off Foggy's concern.  
  
"You're _bleeding_ , Matt," Foggy deadpanned, "that's not exactly what I'd call 'fine'."  
  
"It's just a scratch," Matt insisted, grabbing hold of Foggy's wrist. His hand had been hovering near Matt's side, as if unsure what to do with it. Matt pulled the hand away, lacing his fingers through Foggy's, and letting their intertwined hands fall to the empty space between them. "Besides, I've had worse."  
  
Matt smiled, but it was shaky, and Foggy only scoffed.  
  
"That's not _nearly_ as reassuring as you probably think it is," Foggy stated, staring blankly, a little dumbfounded, at Matt. Bleeding out, and horrible at reassuring--Foggy was incredulous. _This is the man I've chosen to love,_ Foggy thought to himself, inwardly shaking his head, _he's lucky he's cute._  
  
Foggy, for once, was able to bite back the comment.  
  
"I'll get Claire to look at it in the morning, if it'll make you feel better," Matt promised, trying to appease Foggy.  
  
"Claire?" Foggy asked, "she the nurse friend that you told me about?"  
  
"Yeah," Matt said weakly, knowing he was caught in a lie.  
  
Foggy glared. He looked Matt over with a scrutinizing stare, before sighing heavily. Matt looked exhausted and pale. Upon closer inspection, Foggy noticed that Matt was pretty battered; that, along with the dark circles under Matt's eyes, decided Foggy's next move for him.  
  
"I'm too tired for this." Foggy caught the way Matt flinched, and squeezed his hand in reassurance. "This is a talk we'll have in the morning," Foggy declared, using his and Matt's intertwined hands to lead Matt through his apartment. "You're exhausted, obviously, and I'm _way_ too drunk. Therefore, you are going to let me look at that 'scratch'," the air quotes were clear through Foggy's tone alone, "and any other injuries you have, and I will patch you up with the meager supplies that I have, and tomorrow we will talk." Foggy's tone turned sharp and threatening, "and then you _will_ see that nurse friends of yours."  
  
"Okay," Matt agreed immediately.  
  
"Good. Now, sit." They had reached Foggy's bedroom, and Foggy pushed Matt onto his bed. "I'll be right back. Don't move."  
  
When Foggy returned to his bedroom, Matt had already peeled himself out of the top of his ridiculous vigilante suit. There was a huge smear of blood staining Matt's side, but Foggy forced back his panic. He told himself it was probably just from the so-called scratch, the suit having smeared some of the blood around.  
  
It didn't help.  
  
Foggy crouched next to Matt, to see the cut better. It looked painful, but clean and not too deep. He moved to wipe off the blood and put some antibacterial ointment on the injury.  
  
"How did this even happen?"  
  
"Knife," Matt answered simply.  
  
"Oh, yes," Foggy said sarcastically, "'knife', that's informative."  
  
Matt didn't reply, and Foggy rolled his eyes. He was a bit forceful putting the gauze and tape on over the wound, but Matt barely winced.  
  
"Any other injuries?" Foggy asked. When Matt shook his head, Foggy realized he had been expecting that reaction. He sighed. "Fine. I'll find you a change of clothes."  
  
"You don't have to--I can--" Matt started, but Foggy cut off his fumbling.  
  
"You're not going back out there," Foggy said simply, "I'll even be nice and share the bed instead of kicking out onto the couch."  
  
Foggy swiftly left the room to return his first aid to it's place under the sink in his bathroom. Behind him, Matt was blushing bright red, mouth working, at a loss for words.  
  


* * *

Foggy woke up to an unusual warmth pressed against his side--or, well, the fact that the warmth was there was unusual. Nothing about the warmth, itself, was out of the ordinary. Other than the fact that there was something distinctly familiar about it.

He also woke up to a splitting headache.

Disjointed memories from the night before came rushing back, and Foggy suddenly felt the distinct urge to vomit for a reason having nothing to do with his hangover.

"Oh my god," he groaned into his hand, "I'm dating a masked vigilante. Daredevil is my boyfriend."

Beside him, the warmth shifted.

"Boyfriend?" Matt questioned, pressing his smile against Foggy's side.

Foggy felt himself flush. "W-well, I mean. If you want! It's--I'm, _I'd_ like to be your boyfriend--but! Only if you're okay with it? I don't want to assume anything, or anything. It's just--I just--"

"It's fine, Foggy," Matt soothed, "I'd like to be your boyfriend as well."

"Oh, good," Foggy sighed in relief. Then, he immediately perked up. "Hey, you're not going to get out of this Daredevil talk--no matter how much you appeal to my weakness for you."

"Your what?"

"Never mind," Foggy said quickly. "Do you have any explanation for yourself?"

Foggy felt Matt stiffen against his side. Foggy sighed.

"I'm not angry that you hid it from me," Foggy assured.

"That's a lie," Matt muttered, "I can tell."

"You can-- _how_ can you tell?" Foggy demanded.

"Your heartbeat," Matt explained. "I can hear heartbeats."

"That's--that's creepy. And invasive." Foggy looked down at Matt and saw a guarded expression forming. It screamed fear of rejection, and Foggy rolled his eyes. "But, I'll get used to it," he tacked on pointedly.

Matt's shock was clear on his face.

"And," Foggy continued, "that I'm not angry is only a lie because you _hid this from me_. It's reasonable to be a little miffed. But, I get it, too." Matt looked like he wanted to say something, but Foggy didn't let him, wanting to get his piece in first. "So, now, you'll tell me everything, from the beginning, and I'll listen. No more hiding."

Matt looks dumbfounded. Foggy waited, letting Matt work through his thoughts.

Finally, Matt started to explain. His story was haltingly told, and, by the end, Foggy was convinced that he had fallen into a comic book.

"These things don't actually happen in real life," Foggy said, disbelief coloring his words. Matt merely shrugged, an amused quirk to his lips. Foggy narrowed his eyes, "you're a lot more calm, now. Not that I'm complaining, but what happened?"

Matt hummed, radiating easy content, "you reacted much better to all this," Matt waved an arm vaguely, to encompass the 'all this' he was talking about, "much better than I could've hoped. You really are amazing."

Foggy could pinpoint the exact moment when Matt's words caught up to him; Matt's eyes widened and a bright blush rose high on his cheeks. Foggy grinned, completely taken in by Matt.

Then, something occurred to him.

"Wait," he started, mildly horrified, "if you can hear heartbeats, then that means you could hear mine--the whole time--every time I--"

"Yeah," Matt smiled. He moved to cup Foggy's cheek, drawing their faces close together, "but, to be fair, I'll let you in on something--my heart speeds up every time I see you, too."

Foggy's breath hitched, and Matt closed the distance between them.

"Oh, there's one other thing I lied about," Matt said, slightly breathless from the kiss. Foggy froze, and Matt's grin widened. "I love babies."

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://sp8sexual.tumblr.com/)


End file.
